Past, Present and Future
by Basilisk's Fang
Summary: What would have happened if Tom Riddle had found another cage for his soul after the destruction of one diary? What better cage than someone so much like him to bid his time and bring him to greatness? Rated M for future chapters.
1. Prologue

**Author's comment: **This story is based on the oneshot written by Ceris Malfoy and I have received full approval to write a 'sequel' to this oneshot from the author.

**Disclaimer: **Anything writing in this story is not mine, but a pale imitation of J.K. Rowling exceptional work. I do not gain any money from this and never will. This chapter will be the only one displaying the disclaimer.

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**Past, Present and Future**

**Part 1: Past**

It was a steady, if inconsistent throb that haunted his dreams and waking nightmares; a forceful rhythm of unparalleled vigour. It was constant, yet ever changing, and only a fool would ignore its presence.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was not a fool, for all that his elders swore he was. He had first noticed the persistent thrumming when he was a small child –only then it had not been nearly as pervasive, nor as frequent. He had not heard it, however, until he was around five –he had been drifting on the edge of unconsciousness after a particularly savage beating from one of the older children. It had been oddly comforting at the time, and when he finally plunged into the darkness, it was with the vague thought that one day, the older children would fear _him_.

He rapidly figured out that this thrumming, discordant thing was something that set him apart from the other children –something that could be used. And use it he had, until it was not merely the older children who feared him, it was the adults as well. Only, they feared him more because their supposedly "greater intellect" told them that what he could do was unnatural. He was later to learn from an old fool of a wizard by the name of Albus Dumbledore that he was a wizard, a being with magical powers. What the Old Fool had not intended to teach him however, was that odd force inside him was more than magic, it was something innate, something only he had. And he knew this by watching the Old Fool's eyes -they twinkled but they did not burn, not like his did.

And, eventually, even the Old Fool that ran a school full of children that were just like him, children that could do the things he could, if they but tried, feared him. Feared that odd thrumming power that coursed through his veins and filled his eyes with a burning hunger.

At times, Tom had noted, his temper would inevitably be aroused, and when it happened he'd later find himself committing various acts of revenge, a rather maniacal grin crossing his face as he moved to the intrinsic fluidity of the force that pulsed ever on in his veins, that roared within his head.

A steady, powerful march that lead him towards his ultimate goal, a goal that only he had known at first; the creation of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Slytherin. It had led him to the Chamber of Secrets; it had led him to the Basilisk. It had soared to a near-shrieking crescendo of fury and power when he summoned the creature that last time and watched as the snivelling Myrtle fell before its might. At the peak of that crescendo, he cast the spell that would split his soul so that he could live forever, using Myrtles death as a catalyst for the powerful magic.

There was a brief moment of triumph, and then, pain.

Tom Riddle, as he had been, was no more. In his place stood the man that would become the Greatest Dark Lord in history.

**Part 2: Present**

It was silent here, or at least not so raucous. He found he liked it. A welcome reprieve after so much noise, so much screaming pain. It was peaceful. He lingered in the silence, dozing and thinking alternatively. And that was what really made him feel content -there was nothing getting in the way of his thinking, and for once he was thinking clearly, far more clearly than he ever had before.

But after the daze had worn off, he began to question the clarity of his mind, and the not-nearly-as-quiet-as-he-believed silence. _The soul-splitting was a success?_ he questioned. He doubted it –for everything he had read about the process indicated a gradual decline in mental processes, not an increase. But then...

He opened his eyes, but saw nothing. And endless void of darkness and still more darkness greeted his astonished sight. There was a strange weightlessness to his body, and he couldn't feel his fingers move or his eyes blink. And the force that had kept him company since he had been a small child was a gentle pulsing.

Tom had always been a smart boy, and now was no exception. _He didn't have a body to move._ There was something like panic welling deep within him. With a snarl, he pushed it aside, and concentrated. He 'felt' deep within him, and found the tenuous connection that linked him to his ..._former_ body, in order to ensure his immortality. Upon finding it, he knew why none of the theories involving Horcruxes had involved the portion of soul being aware -he was feeling particularly vindictive at the moment, and the connection was fragile enough that a mere tug would dissipate it.

Of course, Tom knew this fragility was due to it being new, and that over time it would harden. He also knew that as soon as the version of him that was ...real?... was fully aware, he would not hesitate to strengthen the connection. Just in case.

Tom would have punched something if he could have, but right now that just wasn't possible. So, frustrated and angry, he bent his will and all the power he possessed on the connection, and tugged. There was a brief moment of dislocation, and then the same stillness. He was unaware of time, was unsure of how much of it was going by, but that really didn't matter. What mattered was the gentle pulse of his weakened power was growing again, becoming that familiar, if lesser, throb that had comforted him when nothing else would.

So, he plotted, planed, and generally made plans with which to escape. He vaguely remembered that he had chosen his diary to be the container for his horcrux, and began to pour limited amounts of his powers into its recesses, creating an illusion of sorts that would gradually bind any who wrote in its pagers to his will. And eventually his freedom.

**Dear Diary, **

**I've finally made it to Hogwarts! I can't believe I'm finally here! It's certainly not what I imagined though. I ought to hex Fred and George for telling me that we had to wrestle a mountain troll to be sorted...**

**Part 3: Future**

Tom stood over the thin boy's quivering frame, a taunting grin stretched over his features. He was steadily filling out again, becoming alive through the girl's energy. He savoured each pseudo-breath he was taking, flexed each muscle, and tested each and every nuance of this new body. He felt triumphant, victorious, and more than a little smug. His power flared around him throbbing with intensity previously unknown to him. He supposed it was glad to be out of its cage as well. He flicked the stolen wand in his hand, pleased when it shot out green sparks. It was familiar, as if grasping an old friend...

"_Please don't be dead. Wake up. Wake up!" came the whispered plea. _

"_She won't wake," Tom said softly._

"_What do you mean, she won't wake?...She's not..."_**(1)**

"_She's still alive, but only just."_ For the first time that night, Tom _really_ looked down at the second-year Gryffindor, and nearly leapt back. Those eyes –burning, vivid, intense Avada Kedavra green. The pale skin and thin body. The cut of the face, the tilt of the eyes... It was like looking into a photograph of him at that age. He said something -many somethings, in fact. But if asked, he probably wouldn't have been able to repeat a single word of it. All he knew was that the boy named Harry Potter was getting more and more furious with each passing word, and his eyes were _burning_.

"_Why should you care? Voldemort was after your time!!" _**(2)**

Tom paused, and then smiled." Voldemort," he started softly, as if trying not to spook the boy "is my past. My present." He paused, unsure. "My future." He closed his eyes at the decision, then waved the stolen wand in his hand, and in the air wrote TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. He stared at the name, and almost regretfully waved the wand again. He watched as the letters rearranged themselves.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

After that it was just a jumble of intensity and power and so much _noise_. He was screaming, that damn phoenix was screeching, the basilisk was full-out roaring its rage and that power that raged inside him ground out a furious rhythm. It swirled around him until Harry was lying before him, panting heavily, bleeding from the bite wound on his arm. He smiled, even as he cursed at the phoenix as he watched the damn bird cry over the wound. He smiled, even as the boy picked up the dagger-like tooth and brought it down forcefully onto the diary. Tom smiled, staring down at those bitter _burning_ eyes, eyes like his used to be before the ceremony, even as he screamed.

He felt his soul, dissolving around him. He closed his eyes and thrust. Everything swam for a moment, and then he was surrounded by an unknown throbbing. He would have smiled if he had the lips for it, but instead buried himself deep within his new cage.

What better cage for him than in the body of one like him? One who could do the things he could. One who had already beaten his other half? Who, indeed, but Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived?

Tom's soul smiled, because this was not the end.

Not by a long shot.

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Note (1)-(2) are direct quote from **Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, **by J.K. Rowling.

This chapter is purely and clearly the one from Ceris Malfoy and I used it as a prologue since it best describe the situation. See Chapter 01 for my very own work. Thanks for you time and hope you'll enjoy yourself reading this fiction.

_**Basilisk's Fang a.k.a. Edvin**_


	2. Ch 1 Breaking Free

**Author's note: **This chapter is not beta. I am still looking for someone to do that for me, please point out any grammar, spelling, etc. error you find and I will make sure it is correct. Enjoy!

_Revised :_ I correct some grammar errors and verb tense. Reformulate sentences, nothing major changing the plotline.

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**  
Chapter 1 – ****Breaking Free**

The way back to Privet Drive, after his second year at Hogwarts, was eerily silent. His cousin, who had been brought for a trip to some special computer store earlier, was on the backseat and pressed so far from Harry that said boy had every difficulty to refrain from laughing out loud. Driving, his uncle was altering between a pasty white shade and an angered red one; Harry had suspicion the last one came from Mr and Mrs. Weasley who had insist on some presentation and a lot of handshakes. So it was with an uncle who had settle on the anger and a running Dudley that a young wizard met his summer holidays.

* * *

Pacing back and forth in front of his bed, the famous Harry Potter was trying to work his way around the situation which would present itself on Privet Drive next day. Marge Dursley was coming to number 4 for one week. One week of pure Hell for one Harry James Potter. Aunt Marge had taken upon herself to insult the Potter child for every breath he drew. But this unwelcome visitor wasn't the only source of problem for our young wizard: upon his arrival from King Cross' Station, uncle Vernon had grabbed his belonging and shoved them in the cupboard under the stairs, making it impossible for the boy to work on his summer assignments and Snape would probably skin him alive if he shows up without his ten inches essay on the differences and limitations of using bezoar versus general anti-venom.

So caught up in his thinking was he, that it took him a full minute to acknowledged the little taping sound coming from his window. The Boy-Who-Lived sighed, an odd sight for it was his birthday after all, and opened the window to three owls: one from the school, old Errol from the Weasleys and his snowy owl Hedwig. Harry grabbed the school's official letter first, its carrier taking flight as soon as relieved from his package. Inside was the characteristic and normal list of material for his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his ticket to the Hogwarts Express and…what was that? A permission slip for the occasional visit to Hogsmeade, a town purely inhabit by wizarding folks. Pity he would probably not see it; his uncle was no where close to sign this paper. Tossing the papers aside, he picked up Errol letter next and unfolding it, came upon a clip from the Prophet where a large picture of the Weasley Family was display right under _**Ministy of Magic Employee Won the Jackpot**_. A little smile made his way to the young's face, erasing the lines of worry that had started to appear since the first day of summer.

Ron's letter was brief, explaining that his father had won a bunch of galleons and they had used the money to visit his older brother Bill in Egypt where said brother was unravelling the mysteries of the ancient Egyptian wizards, but mostly breaking the wards around pyramids and sacred places; sounds fun. Harry wondered if he would travel later. He certainly wanted to, but would he be able to? With Voldemort always finding a way to corrupt his school year, one never knows. Blinking, as if confused, he put the letter next to the school one and read the last one which seems to be from Hermione who was currently in France, visiting the wizarding culture of the country as well as the muggle one; another one who was travelling while he was locked up in number four Privet Drive again. Bitter resentment and choking anger caught up in his throat a moment later and, would he have been facing the mirror of his wardrobe, he would have see his scar flaring onto his forehead and a little shimmer at shoulders' length. Seconds after, nothing was left of those sudden emotions. Panting, as if he had run a marathon, he lowered himself to his chair slowly and started to take long breath.

It was not the first time this kind of thing had happened. He remembered well the hot rage that had seized him up as uncle Vernon had taken possession of his wand. For one fleeting moment, Harry had sensed his body jerked, as if trying to do something of his own mind and it had creped him out to see his fists clenched and ready to take a swing at his uncle. This new emotion had made disappeared the rage and minutes later he was in his bedroom with nothing more than his owl and his clothes and a bloody headache. Since then, he evaded his uncle for fear of this. The second time had been almost the same but it was the result of a confrontation between Dudley's gang and himself. It had taken place at the park where Harry was dreamily swinging; Dudley and his friends had came up right in front of him. As always, the boys had started to taunt him, insults were being thrown at each others until one made the balance tipped.

"So I heard you mother was a bitch Potter, nothing more than a…" had said Piers Polkiss.

He had never finished his sentence for he found himself gaping for air as Harry's fist was trying to choke him. Two seconds was the time he had needed to regain his mind and without a word to the wide-eyed crowd, he had turned around and fled. And now he was there, recovering from the anger that had made his way up against his _friends_! What was happening to him? Had he always been so prompt to anger? He didn't think so. Rearranging his letters, he put his pyjamas and tucked himself under the covers, hoping against hope that sleep would bring him some miraculous way to deal with Marge Dursley.

* * *

Sadly for the green eye boy, sleep was an awful thing. Visions of his uncle's red face, his overgrown cousin beating him, his aunt laughing of him and a big black snake with yellow eyes opening his mouth and sticking his fang into his stomach plagued his dreams. Nothing to make him rest and he woke up at least three times during the night due to those nightmares. It was with dark circles under his eyes that Harry brought his aunt's luggage to the spare bedroom of the house while trying to dodge her dog's teeth. Angry, he took a swing with his foot and kicked the little thing under the belly, sending it flying down the stairs with a pain shriek.

With a satisfied smirk, Harry could finally let go of his load and made his way downstairs. Already the Dursleys had started to eat the lunch. His uncle was casually talking with his big sister, Marge, who look suspiciously too much like Vernon, was spitting some words between mouthful of steak and rice, Dudley was watching the television with undivided attention while his mother kept glancing at him with her large and proud smile. Disgusted, Harry seated himself between his cousin and Petunia and tried to make himself as small as possible to escape Marge Dursley's wrath. It proved hopeless. Speeches like: "Did we never teach you how to stand young man? Mind your manners! Would you have been a puppy I would have whipped you long ago" or "Where do you send him Vernon? St-Brutus. Well I would advise you of asking to double punishment for his ill manners. Wouldn't do to disgrace the poor family who welcome you under their roof would it?"

Although, considering past events, the week passed smoothly. Harry managed to keep control of his emotions through the recitations of his potions ingredients' table or his charms curriculum since first year; he even started reciting Hogwarts' theme song! He didn't want anything out of the ordinary to happen. If it did, he would probably see bars to his window again and that wouldn't do. Sadly, on the last day of her stay, aunt Marge took one too many cup of wine. Her big arms were waving over her head while she was expressing herself quite loudly about her dogs' breeding when she said one too many thing.

"You see Petunia, everything is from the mother's blood. If the mother's ill, the puppy will be. See here; take your nephew for example. In spite of all your efforts, he end up bad mannered, bad tempered, bad and bad through his blood because it came from his mother. She was nothing more than a bitch you see…"

And she would have continued if it was not for the sound of Petunia's dishes breaking. Three pairs of eyes turned to him: the shocked one of Petunia, Vernon's one burning of angered and the contemptuous one of Marge, Dudley's were still glued to the television; oblivious of what happened around him.

"BOY! Let me get…" started Harry's uncle, but he was cut off by his sister who's eyes narrowed and stared hard at the boy who still had his head down, hands gripping the dishes which had broken in two pieces.

"Ungrateful brat. You have now decided to cost more to the Dursley family after everything we've done for you? Count it lucky that after the stupid people who called themselves your parents got killed in a car accident Petunia and Vernon accepted to raise you as their own son! Probably died the both of them because your daddy was a drunken who didn't know how to drive eh?"

With a whooshing sound, Harry suddenly faced his uncle's sister. His emerald eyes were currently burning of anger and it was with a cold voice, devoid of any emotion if it wasn't of rage that he finally spoke.

"Excuse yourself, for my dad was never a drunken as you are. Both were better people than you can ever hope to be"

"BOY GET…"

"Shush Vernon. Let mister Potter defends his slut of a mother and his drunken of a father…"

That was too much. Harry never knew what happened exactly on that day, but all of a sudden there was the sound of glass breaking everywhere in the dinning room. The lamp shattered, the television explode, startling Dudley who shrieked, the dishes disintegrated in nothing more than dust and somewhere in all that, Marge Dursley found herself flung against the far wall, upside down and yelling. Vernon was the first to unfreeze and with rage he stood up.

"BOY GET HER DOWN THIS INSTANT!"

"NEVER!"

What follow was a series of crashing sound and grunting which resulted with Vernon laying face down on the table and Harry running straight to the cupboard under the stairs. With one narrowed look the door open furiously and his wand soared to his outstretched hand, his trunk following closely behind. Walking with determination, he literally blast off the front door, getting more than one curious eye from the neighbours, and made his way out in the pitch black night under the careful watch of one full moon.

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Review & Review please. No flame since those won't help me you know?

Basilisk's Fang a.k.a Edvin


	3. Ch 2 Met the Children of Nightmares

ALPHA VERSION

**A/N:** It took me quite a bit of time to come up with this chapter because of a lack of planning. Though, it is now up and I hope to see review alert in my mailbox soon. Criticism are heavily encourage, flame are not. If you like something tell me, if you don't tell me as well. Thanks to everyone who review, it makes writting a lot more easier. A special thank you to DarIm for his excellent insight. You should see your proposition in the next chapter ;)

I am also looking for a Beta reader, if anyone is interested, please feel free to PM me.

**Disclaimer**: See Prologue

**Chapter 0****2 – Met the Children of Nightmares**

Young Harry Potter opened his eyes under the sun's grace. Yawning and stretching, a little smile worked his way to his lips as he remembered why he was waking up in one of the Leaky Cauldron's room. Upon escaping is uncle wrath yesterday, the wizard had walked a long way before stopping and asking himself: What now? He was considering flying to London, but he didn't really know where that was from Surrey and had finally dropped the idea when he remembered that he had to carry his trunk with him. Fumbling through his belongings for some idea, he had heard something moving behind him. Whirling and wand in hand, he had come face to face with a large black dog who was watching him from five feet. The dog's appearance was probably what make him panic; to make it simple, it was looking like an old rag and Harry, frantic, had tripped on the sidewalk and end up on his back while at the same moment he heard a huge BANG!

The Knight Bus had made his apparition on Magnolia Crescent and for eleven sickles, had been driven to the Leaky Cauldron entrance. Waiting for him at the entrance was none other than Cornelius Fudge, the minister of magic himself! A little chat between the two, reassurance that he was all right and that there would be no consequence for his outburst was all it took for Harry to be finally release and to rent a room for the remaining summer holiday, three weeks. Three weeks where he would be able to do everything he wanted to.

Still smiling, Harry took out one of his old black robe and dressed while thinking of his day. Should he go to Quidditch shop to admire the brooms and the equipment? Or maybe he should go to Fortescue for some ice cream and a little chat with the man? But as he cast a glance at the mirror, he decided that his first trip would be Mrs. Malkin's robes for all occasion, it seems he had outgrown his old one. He took one delicious breakfast, wave at Tom before finally making his way out to Diagon Alley.

There were numerous wizards everywhere with colourful robes and pointy hats doing their shopping. Boisterous, the Boy-Who-Lived walk casually across the Alley, ignorant of some glances from the customers, until he climbed the marble stairs of Gringotts. The boy had to wait in line for about five minutes before it was his turn to be served. He gave his key to the goblin with a polite smile and seconds later found himself surrounded by three other wizards on their way to their vaults. He put about fifty galleons in his pouch for his school supplies and went back in the cart.

Minutes passed before he ended under the sun's ray. Taking a deep breath, he savored his freedom before walking the trek to Mrs. Malkin's robes for all occasions. It took him a good portion of the morning to finish his clothes shopping. This had been a result of Mrs. Malkin adamant protest against his hand-me down clothes that peek under his robes.

His hands full of packages containing robes, shirts, pants and underwear, Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron under the careful and amused glance of the bartender. The young wizard settled his purchase on the desk and took a look at his money pouch…only to gasp in surprise. He had spent 45 galleons only on clothes! No wonder the Weasleys were using hand me down if it cost so much. Though, he had to admit that those clothes were fitting him quite nicely and they were much more comfortable than his old cousin's. Smiling as never before, he trotted back to Gringott to get his pouch full again and spent the rest of the day shopping for his school supplies. This was a wonderful day for a wonderful summer.

* * *

Harry quickly established some sort of routine. He would wake up at about nine in the morning, ate a breakfast with Tom before going into Diagon Alley. There he had first made all of his homework at Fortescue Parlor, even receiving a free sundae every half an hour. People where chatting around him about the new racing broom or the escaped Sirius Black. Harry had had a very strange feeling when he had first seen the man's face on a poster in the Alley, as if he had seen the prisoner somewhere before but couldn't place it.

Quickly that routine had change a bit with his school work done. He had started to read his new books with a speed that even surprise himself. Ancient Runes, which he had decided to take at the end of the year with Cares for Magical Creatures, was very interesting. The simple prospect of creating his own spells was appealing and made him devour the basic book, doing exercises to make sure he understood completely.

_Wait until Hermione and Ron learn this. One is going to be ecstatic and the other will think I'm going mad._

With a chuckle, he stood up and carefully placed his book in his bag. He had finish the required book from the school and another one recommended from the clerk at Flourish and Blotts and was now working on his transfiguration, he even had rewrite his potions essay three times since he had established himself at the Leaky Cauldron! Snape was going on for a surprise. Harry had to admit potions were quite fascinating without Snape constantly breathing on the back of his neck. How each and every ingredients react depending on the temperature, the cauldron, the time between the stir, so much details that could go wrong. Even if he had difficulty to, he now had a bit more respect for the man who called himself his potion teacher for Snape had managed to obtain Mastery in the subject after all.

With an ease that speak of familiarity, Harry made his way between the crowd of wizards who were doing there school shopping to Flourish and Blotts; he wanted to get some more book on Ancient Runes, Potions and Transfiguration. Waving at the clerk with a little smile, the gryffondor perused the shelves until he found some interesting work on the three subjects: _Transfiguration and Dueling: Beginner's Guide_, _Bubble and Toil: Potion's study guide_ and _Glyphs for Spells: How to Decipher them_. Satisfied, hepaid and walked the trek back to the little club where the Weasleys and Hermione were going to meet with him for lunch. This summer was just wonderful and he was excited about going back to school.

He was humming on the way back and, oddly enough, a thrumming took place in his train of thoughts and a happy sixteen years old slytherin 'smiled' in the darkest corner of his mind…

_Yes, __I am going home…_

* * *

The remaining week had been pleasant. The Weasleys had rent rooms at the Leaky Cauldron as Hermione, the following days had constituted of pranks from Fred and George ('Did we show you this wonderful cream Harry?'), late homework for Ron and light reading for Harry and Hermione, games of chess and exploding snap and, of course, school shopping for his two friends and the other redheads. Ron had, as Harry had thought, been left wide eye when he had learned that Harry had done all of his homework and more, while Hermione had been beaming constantly at him when she would catch him with some book in hands. The wardrobe change had brought different reactions from the gryffondor: Percy had ignored it completely, Fred and George had grinned and start yelling about the Heir of Slytherin coming back -particularly with his dark green shirt and black trousers-, Ron had gaped, Mrs. Weasley had commented on how dashing he was now, Ginny had simply been beet-red, Mr. Weasley had told him it was fitting him quite nicely and Hermione had exclaimed 'It's about time you get decent clothes Harry and not some rags from your disgusting cousin!' which had been met by a bunch of nodding heads.

It was discussing the future Cares for Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes classes that the group made there way to Platform nine and three-quarter.

'I'm telling you Harry, and you should know too since you read the require books did you not, that we are only going to start with deciphering runes' was saying Hermione.

'But when do you reckon we will start creating our own spells?' was asking the raven hair boy.

'If you would read _Hogwart's a History_, you would know that the class primly focus on curse and ward breaking and will have a bit of spell modification in our seventh year if we manage our OWLs on the subject.' retorted the annoyed witch.

'Uh…I was hoping I could create a spell to fly. You know, like without a broom…'

'Harry, there must have been millionth of attempt at this spell and no one come close to doing it.' Sighed his friend.

_I'll show you how well I can do…_

'We'll see Hermione, we'll see…'

Frowning, Harry ended the conversation there, wondering how he could achieve something no one had ever manage to do.

Mr.Weasley had got an official ministry car and they had driven from the Leaky Cauldron to King's Cross Station in half an hour. The streaming engine was waiting patiently in all of his red glory while parents wished one last time a good year to their children while those were running around looking for friends to share some summer vacations story or to simply greet them. Cats were mewing and owls hooting in the middle of this cacophony. One whistle. Harry took a deep breath, a smile stretching his lips, for there was nothing better than the wizarding world. Another whistle. It was time to mount up if you didn't want to be late. A series of hugs and tears from Mrs. Weasley and soon the seven students found themselves on the train. Last whistle. The train took off with the last goodbye of parents and children and finally they left behind a world of strangers for the familiarity of Hogwarts.

* * *

'Come on, let's find an empty compartment' said Harry.

And so they crossed all the carriage until one of the very last compartment, but it seems that all had at least one person in them. Casting a glance at the last of them, Hermione caught the figure of an old man with graying hair and old robes who seemed to be asleep against the window.

'Let's get this one. He is asleep, let's just be quiet.' She said as she opened the door and started to pull her trunk with her. Glancing at each other, Harry and Ron shrugged and soon joined their friend.

There was a moment of silence as they contemplated the other passenger. He had short light brown hair flecked with gray and looked quite ill and tired. His face was pale and he sported two dark rings under his closed eyes. His robes were old and darned here and there.

'Who do you think he is?' asked Ron, the question that Harry was asking himself too.

'Professor R.J. Lupin.' Was the casual answer from Hermione, earning herself two incredulous stares. 'It's written on his trunk' she clarified.

'The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher you think?' murmured Harry.

'What else could he be teaching?'

'Potions! I would be eternally grateful to the man if he gets rid of Snape for us!' exclaimed Ron with a distant smile, probably imagining the scene and ignoring the two exasperated sighs that echoed his idea. There was some ruffling sound as Hermione opened her book on Charms, before the silence of the compartment was broken, again, with Ron's question.

'So Harry, what did my dad wanted to tell you yesterday?' he asked referring to yesterday dinner when Mr. Weasley had asked Harry to come with him outside.

'He said…' casting suspicious glare at the teacher '…that Sirius Black was one of Voldemort's - shiver from Ron and Hermione - most trusted followers, his right-hand man. They supposed that he is looking for me, to avenge his old master because he kept murmuring in his sleep _He's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts_'

Hermione gasped, Ron was left gaping, but Harry was…indifferent. He didn't really care and he couldn't explain himself why he couldn't care. There was a murderer tracking him after all, but, in all of this, he was calm. A part of him wanted to scream his frustration at another trouble year at Hogwarts, but there was another part, this small part that thrived for challenge, that was welcoming another dangerous year at the Wizarding School.

_I have __faced Voldemort after all, haven't I? I've faced him when the Dark Lord had possessed Professor Quirrell and another time in the Chamber of Secrets… _

The Chamber of Secrets…He wondered if the Basilisk's corpse was still there, lying dead on the marble floor. Maybe he could get some ingredient from it? He had read in _Fantastical Beasts and Where to find Them_ that the King of Snakes' body parts were rare and exotic potions ingredients. He would need to check this out later. Maybe get Professor Snape to collect them and let the man have half of them? This would certainly help in their relationship, well he hoped. He truly enjoyed the potion making art after all of his summer reading. The last book he had bought, _Bubble and Toil: Potions study guide_ was one of the best to explain the basic of potion making and recommended some tricks to remember the more challenging part of the class. He was going to buy one for Neville as a Christmas gift; it would help the poor boy.

Soon the sun finished his descent and let place to a pitch black night with blistering rain and sometimes a lonely lightning bolt would make itself known. Lights flicked on the compartment, not disturbing it's occupants at all for it was a grumbling stomach of one Ronald Weasley that shook the other two out of their reading.

'Sorry, mumbled the redhead, do you think we'll be there soon?'

'I don't think so, answer the brunette with a look at her watch, we have about an hour and a half still to…'

She was roughly interrupted when the train started to slow down quickly, making it hard to keep their balance. Curious, Ron cast a glance outside the window before addressing himself to the other teenagers.

'There is movement out there, seems like some people are boarding.'

Second later the lights flicked out and let them consider the rapidly decreasing temperature that seems to make icy veins appeared onto the window of their compartment. Harry rose up and opened the rigid door with difficulty because of its frost hinges. He had barely enough time to put his head out of the compartment that he found himself on the ground with a massive body press onto him. Grunting he managed to stand up.

'Sorry, didn't see you there' said a familiar voice in the shadow.

'Neville?'

'Harry is that you? Great I was looking for you. Do you know what is happening out…Ouch!'

'Sorry Neville, is there a place I can sit?' asked Ginny Weasley who just happened to stumble upon poor Neville.

After some tumbling, fumbling and stumbling, the other two students managed to found themselves a seat and conversation start up again only to be roughly interrupted by a hoarse voice coming from the corner of the compartment.

'Be quiet!'

And they became quiet. Moment later a shadow glide across the corridor between the compartments, its long robe billowing behind it as if caught up in a powerful wind. The shadow came to a halt in front of their door and a bony and putrefactive hand found its way to the handle, slowly opening the door. There it stood in all of his nightmarish glory; dark cloak covering it from head to toe and only a hole for mouth, its presence brought up shiver from the group of wizards. But nothing could prepare them for the long raspy breath it took, as if trying to breath something other than air.

Harry felt cold all of sudden, at the same moment he felt a flaring pain in his head. But everything was out of his mind as he heard screaming. It was a women pleading and there was this cold laugh resonating in his head, fog clouded his mind and he had the distinct impression he had heard a scream of fury just a moment before. Though, all of that didn't matter. There was this women screaming and this cold laugh and whooshing sound, and there was this women screaming and this cold laugh and whooshing sound and there was this women screaming…

* * *

'Harry! Get up Harry!' started to pound in is head in harmony with his headache. And he suddenly felt a slap across his face. Straightening up quickly, he collided with Ron's head, making his headache all the more painful.

'Ooow!'

'Sorry. What happened?' he asked his friends, while assessing the situation. He was currently sitting on the compartment floor, Ron was trying to get up, Hermione seemed to be comforting Ginny and Neville was pale as a ghost.

'The dementors, guardians of Azkaban. Take this, said Professor Lupin giving him a bar of chocolate, it will help with the aftereffect. I'm going to see the machinist.' And he left without another word.

'You gave us a fright Harry. While everybody was just trembling and moaning, you went stiff and it was like you were in another world man' said Ron who was helping Harry to steady up.

'What happened? What make it back up?' asked a still shocked Harry. He had fainted…why was he the only one who had fainted? He needed to check those dementors in the library. It was Hermione that answered his question this time.

'Professor Lupin stood up, stepped over you and faced the creature wand in hand. He then said _No one in this compartment is hiding Sirius Black under his cloak, leave now._ But it didn't and then he agitated his wand and there was this odd grey mist between himself and the dementor who quickly fled the train as if gliding.'

'No one else fainted?' asked the young wizard, hoping that maybe he wasn't alone.

'Nah mate. You were the only one. Ginny was sobbing and trembling, but no fainting.'

It was with a shooting headache that Harry reached Hogwarts…

_Never again I'll be bested by those creatures…_

Whispered a voice in his head, his conscience he thought, for he agreed entirely with it…

'Hey Potter! Is it true you actually _fainted_ when the dementors check your compartment?'

With a groan, Harry Potter found himself face to face with a blonde boy by the name of Draco Malfoy and with his headache full on, he was in no mood for the slytherin.

'Get off Malfoy, I have no time for this' was his cold answer.

'So it's true? The Great and Mighty Potter brought down by the big black hooded dementors? What a pity it must be for the light side if you are supposed to be their _savior_.' Draco was smirking all the way through his little speech. Though his smirk quickly wiped off when he caught the worn figure of a professor making his way up the stairs. With one last snort in Harry's direction, he turned heels and stalked down the Entrance Hall to the Great Hall.

'Thanks Merlin, the git is done.'

The group made their way to the Great Hall, Hermione being accosted by professor McGonagall about some schedule revision before the start of term. Ron, Harry and Neville took seat at their red and gold table, ignoring the laughter coming off the slytherin table where Malfoy was making a show of Harry fainting in front of dementor.

'He was not so smart when they check his compartment.' said Fred when he caught the direction of their furious looks.

'He was close to wetting his pants, all shaking and sweating as he was' add George.

Harry was about to say something when the oak door opened with a loud BANG to let the tiny Flitwick lead the forty or so first year in the Great Hall. There was no more sound as the Sorting Hat was put on his stool, when he suddenly started to sing.

_Another year's down_

_And it'__s the sorting time now!_

_Will you find your place in Hufflepuff_

_Where hardwork and patience is their share_

_And loyalty a priority?_

_Or maybe you'll stick with the green__,_

_Those are the ambitious and the cunning__,_

_Those are using __every means,_

_For t__hey are Slytherins._

_Will your place be with the witty minds?_

_In this case Ravenclaw is for your kind_

_The curious and knowledgeable one._

_But maybe that's not what you're looking for_

_Or you simply wish for more?_

_Chivalry, bravery and courageous heart_

_Do well in the house of Gryffondor._

_Alright little one, put me on_

_For it is now the sorting time!_

Everyone applauded the Sorting Hat as it was bowing to the four tables before immobilizing and waiting for the first student who was going to be sort this year. Harry tuned out the sorting at this point, only acclaiming with the rest of his house when a new student found his way to the red and gold.

Soon everyone was seated, Hermione and McGonagall coming back right after the sorting, and Dumbledore rose up for his usual speech.

'I am please to welcome everyone for another year at Hogwarts! As some of you may have notice, the ministry has deemed necessary for the dementors to guard the domain of our school. I recommend caution for everyone. Dementors are not creature who will wait for excuse. They will strike and fast and cannot be fooled even by invisibility cloak.'

'But on a more joyous note, let me present to you your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin – there was polite applause- and I have sad news. Professor Kettleburn has decided to retire himself to take care of his last living part. It is my pleasure to announce that Hagrid will replace him as professor of Care of Magical Creatures. And now let the feast start!'

Food appeared everywhere and joyous laughter was soon heard all across the Great Hall. Somewhere, in Harry's mind, an odd thrumming sound took the place of a painful headache.

_I am now back home…_


End file.
